


Nightmares

by UncleTouchyLich



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Bleak, Dark, Dubious Consent, F/M, Human, Lich, M/M, Mind Control, Multi, Original Character(s), Other, Ownership, Short, Short One Shot, Undead, the beloveds, the shadow isles, yordle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 17:38:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15690183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UncleTouchyLich/pseuds/UncleTouchyLich
Summary: Two beloved souls in Karthus's choir repeat the same troubling pattern time and time again. Sasha remembers and can tollerate what they are, but Wren cannot.





	Nightmares

A scream breaks through the peaceful lullaby. Wren sits up, shaking, screaming, his eyes wide. He looks around as if he recognizes nothing. He holds his head, his slender fingers digging into faded hair while his shriek reaches a tone unutterable by a human throat.

It has been a long, long time since he has been alive, and he has just remembered that. Wren’s conciousness bobbed to the surface of blissful ignorance and had seen the storm above him and below him. Bile would be rising to his throat, but there is nothing there to evacuate, there is no way to expel what has been done.

He can’t even look at the thing next to him. It isn’t a man, it’s a terror, a monster- strange flesh stretched over stranger bones. He can feel the thing’s twisted claw on his back and he doubles up, trying to get away from the feeling, trying to throw up. There was so much inside, so much. Clean, he wanted to be clean again. 

“Wren- Wren, shh- it’s okay.” A small comfort, a female voice so much like those he’d grown up around- streetwalkers and whores. They’d been tough-as-nails women who scraped by in the worst of ways and did the best they could for themselves and one another. These are the women who had always been his friends, his teachers and they had been there to care for him when he lost his leg. “Wren? Hey- Wren- listen- you won’t feel like this forever, I promise. It’s just another one of your.. one of your little attacks.” She is familiar to him, the only familiar thing. She climbs fearlessly over the monster that they share this strange, tattered bed with so she can get to him.

“Sasha?” He sounds uncertain, as though he barely recognizes her, as though he can hardly believe that they’ve spent centuries together. “Sasha, I’m frightened- Sasha, I think I’m dead.” Is all he can manage, his voice breaking into a sob.

Sasha is a yordle, small and curvy and all the wrong colors- dead, by the holy Kindred she was as dead as he was. He was horrified, saddened. Did he know her? Her eyes are as empty and luminous as his. She’s a prisoner with him, a caged bird to huddle with. 

She opens her arms to him and holds the thing that was once such a pretty young man. Though she is so much smaller than he is, she holds Wren like a mother holds a child who has screamed for her in the night, doing the best she can. She gives his shaking head a kiss, rocking him a little and clutching him to her breast. She glances at the lich beside them. It’s a practiced little glance, like one she would have given to a customer who was steadily growing impatient and might be liable to get dangerous if left un-entertained.

His eyes are on them, watching them with the removed amusement of someone looking at moths in a jar, seeing them batter their wings uselessly against the glass. She knows as soon as Karthus speaks again his voice will cast it’s hold over Wren once again and the strange spirit will be back to his dreamy self. She knows when the Deathsinger speaks again they will both sink back into bliss, begin to drown again in the opium dream of pleasure, light, sound and touch more intimate than anything a mortal body could feel. Poor Wren. He was never as Lucid as she. Sasha held him tight, praying for their master’s voice to relive Wren of this panic and despair. Why he ever broke out of the spell at all was a mystery to her.

“Shhh, baby. You’re.. you’re just having a nightmare.” She even managed a small laugh. “A bad dream. That’s all it is, a bad dream.”

It always hurt her to lie to him.

**Author's Note:**

> -  
> A short little moment in answer to a question about the choir of beloved spirits I post about and occasionally draw on uncle-touchy-lich.tumblr.com  
> Some people seem to think it would be an easy thing, to be special and singled out. I needed to set the record straight.  
> Wren is an OC borrowed with loving permission from calix-daesyn.tumblr.com and Sasha is my feverish creation made on a whim during an art stream, but people like her and ask after her often. So she's stayed around.


End file.
